One Life To Love
by goldnox
Summary: ONE SHOT / Graduation brought a lot upon the gang of Mystic Falls, but one massive change that no one saw coming. And now that forever may not mean the same, how do you make the most of what you have left? By spending it all with the person you love, and making every minute count. / AU/AH / Delena / Unabashed fluff to celebrate a friend's birthday.


**A/N: So this was written for _delenadreamer_ for her birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!) to make all her fluffy dreams appear in writing (I hope). To make this happen I had to change a few things up a bit, or one big thing, so we are launching at the season 4 finale with one...adjustment. Katherine does NOT get the cure, it lands elsewhere. Hope you all enjoy! (Warning, major fluff ahead)**

* * *

**One Life To Love**

* * *

Some things never change, but some things do.

The first sixteen years of my life taught me what it was to be loved. The next two taught me what it was to lose the ones I cherished, to surrender to the power of choices that are impossible to make but that happen anyways, with or without your consent. But it's been the last twenty-four that have taught me the most. Through it all there has still been love given and received and I wouldn't change a single day of it.

I know that if I did, I wouldn't be here now.

And there's no place I'd rather be.

* * *

**_Graduation Day_**

I'm sitting on Damon's bed and I'm shaking. I feel absolutely sick, though I'm thrilled. I just wish I knew where he was. I'm terrified about what he'll do, how he's going to take this. I know it's not what he wanted, he made that perfectly clear. I don't even know if he's mad at me about it. He could be. But it's not like any of us knew this would happen.

I mean, I had _finally _made peace with being a vampire. I could drink from blood bags and I didn't have to hurt people, and I did horrible, terrible things with my switch off but that was never going to happen _ever_ again. The sire bond was broken so that was done. I know that I love Damon and he actually believes me. So when I said no to the cure, I was absolutely confident in my decision.

I tried to give it to Stefan, he needs it more than I do. Did. But he didn't want it either. Secretly, I think it's because he didn't want to leave Damon, and I love him for that. But that left us with magic in a bottle and no willing takers. Caroline wasn't interested, she likes being a vampire. She wouldn't even really let me get the words out before she declined, telling me she had way too many places to go and things to buy and one lifetime just wasn't enough for her. So back in my jacket pocket it went.

Klaus would've been a good option, but he was gone. According to Caroline he was headed back to New Orleans to stay. And yeah, the guy ruined my life and we've tried to kill him so many times but at this point, if he's willing to call a cease-fire that's more than fine with me. I'm so ready to be done with him.

I hated the idea of it sitting around, that just sounded like begging for an ambush and I'm sick of fighting. Someone had to take it, and with everyone saying no that just left one other person.

Stefan was still loading Silas into the trunk of my car when I went to him, asking him to wait. Damon came outside, looking between me and him like he couldn't believe what I was about to do, but I wasn't asking permission. I pulled back the tarp they had wrapped him in, revealing his concrete face. His hand was covering most of it but there was a small opening where his mouth was still visible.

"Get ready," I told Damon then bit into my wrist, letting a few drops of blood trickle into his throat.

The effect was immediate, skin coming to life and chunks of rock breaking off to reveal a person I used to be in love with. He was the exact image of Stefan.

I think Stefan was even more surprised than I was. His jaw dropped in shock at the sight of himself and I don't blame him, I know the feeling well, but we couldn't afford for the slightest of errors. Silas started to stir and Damon was on him, pinning his arms to the trunk. I tugged the cure from my jacket, broke off the cork and poured it into his mouth.

The sound was grossly frightening. Something out of a horror movie came screeching past his lips, back bowed and body twisted in anguish and he screamed and screamed and screamed.

Then he just stopped. The body fell limp and we all stood still, listening to the unmistakable sound of a human heartbeat.

Stefan ripped his heart out, and then it was done. Or at least, we thought it was.

Damon offered to dump Silas' body in the quarry after we waited five minutes to make sure he was absolutely dead, which he was, but Stefan said he'd take him. The whole doppelganger thing had really messed with his head. Hell, it was messing with all of ours.

As soon as Stefan left I called Caroline to tell her, listening to more "OhmyGod's" than anyone should ever have to suffer as Damon smirked at me from the couch with a drink in his hand. When I finally got off the phone, more than ready to take a shower and down some blood, possibly a little bourbon, before making up for lost time with my boyfriend, that's when his whole body jerked and he abruptly started gasping.

I rushed for him as he hunched forward, his forgotten glass spilled on the carpet while he clawed at his head and chest. All I could think as his ragged breaths turned into pain-filled shouts was about Sage dropping dead in front of me after Matt staked Finn. I hit my knees in front of him, crying his name as I waited for the first signs of his skin turning gray and then the world exploded.

Every bone, every muscle, every joint and every cell erupted into nitroglycerine and somewhere inside me, something lit a match. Pain raged and scorched, blistering me from the inside out as everything broke over and over and over again.

It lasted forever.

I prayed for death.

I begged for mercy.

I swore to take it all back, every lie and every broken neck and every drop of blood if it would just stop.

Then, as smoothly as switching off a light, it was over.

I collapsed on the floor, faintly aware that Damon was beside me. He must have rolled off the couch. He said my name and reached for my hand and I felt it. Saw it. _Knew it_.

I was human.

He gathered me in his arms, checking me over and asking if I was okay but I was perfect, I was fine. I was alive. The problem was, so was he.

It took about thirty seconds for Damon to shift from protective and worried to furiously livid. He didn't say anything, just helped me up then stormed from the house, the only thing in his wake was the slamming of the door. He hasn't been back since.

I spoke with Caroline and she's fine, freaked but fine, and human, too. Stefan got back about half an hour after Damon disappeared, and the same with him. Human. He made some calls and from what we can tell there are no longer vampires.

Period. Zilch. Zero.

I don't know where that leaves us on the werewolf or hybrid front since nobody knows how to get a hold of Tyler and the last person I'm calling is Klaus in case he still wants to use me as a blood bag, so I'm going to try to let it go for now.

The only thing I care about is Damon coming home in one unbroken piece.

The front door shuts and even without my advanced hearing it's loud enough that it echoes all the way upstairs to where I'm sitting. I want nothing more than to rush to him, to scream at him, possibly hit him for being such an asshole and bailing when we all need him, but I don't.

I wait because he just had his choice taken away from him, again. And this time, it was my fault.

He stumbles over the threshold of the room but catches himself, snorting a laugh. Of course. He's completely plastered. My hands curl into fists at my side but I stay still. He straightens and catches sight of me sitting on his bed, a sloppy smile spreading across his face.

"Christmas already? No wait, let me guess," he slurs. "Graduation present?"

"You didn't graduate, Damon. I did."

"I won't tell if you won't," he stage whispers, then tries to kick the door closed but it barely moves as his foot grazes it. He glances back at it, scowling. "I guess _that_ doesn't work anymore either," he mutters bitterly.

"Damon-"

"Don't start, Elena," he snaps at me then stalks into the bathroom, bumping into the corner of his sink with a hiss.

"How much did you have to drink?" I ask as I follow him, turning him to face me so I can help him undo the buttons he's fumbling.

"Not enough."

"Damon, you can't-"

"Can't what, Elena?" he cuts me off, grabbing my hands and holding them still. "Can't drink? Can't kill? Can't protect you anymore because I'm fucking human?"

"I know this isn't what you wanted-" I start but stop when he laughs cruelly.

"Since when does it matter what _I _want? It doesn't!" he roars, throwing my hands away from him. "It matters what you want and what Stefan wants and you both got it. Congratulations."

"I didn't do this to you on purpose, Damon," I say defensively.

"But you wanted this to happen!"

"Yeah, I did!"

"Why the fuck did you want to die? Because that's what this is, Elena, a fucking death sentence with no set execution date other than sometime in the next sixty years,_ if_ I'm lucky."

I bite my tongue and look at him, really look.

I find it in his eyes, right behind the anger and wedged next to love. Fear. So much of it, for me, for Stefan, for him. Because yes, now we're all going to die a lot sooner than we expected. Than he wanted. I realize he's mourning the centuries we just lost and my chest aches for all those memories that we won't have. That he deserved.

I take his hands and he doesn't shake me off. I sweep my thumb over his knuckles and squeeze because his hands are trembling. I wait for his breaths to slow and for some of the red to fade from his cheeks and we just stand there, silently, in his bathroom.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully and please let me finish," I say gently when I feel he's calm enough to hear me. He blinks slowly and glances down before he looks back at my eyes and that's all the agreement I'm going to get, but it's more than enough.

"I'm sad too, Damon. I wanted those years with you, all of them, but they're gone now and there's nothing we can do about it." His eyes are shining but I don't know if it's what I'm saying or just the booze. "You hate it when people are in denial and when they brood, so I need you to be the man I know, buck up and make the best of it. If all we get is one life," I shrug, "let's rock the shit out of it."

My soft smile pulls half of one out of him and then he's yanking me against his chest, wrapping me in his arms.

"You still smell good," he whispers, but I think it was more for himself.

"So do you," I tell him, "even though you smell like a bar."

"Did you really tell me to 'buck up'?" he chuckles and I finally relax. We're gonna be just fine.

"Absolutely," I tell him and pull back to look as serious as I can muster. "For all I knew the next thing to come out of your mouth was gonna be asking where to buy hair gel and a journal."

"You're gonna pay for that, Gilbert," he grins, even though I did just compare him to his martyr-ish brother.

"I think you're gonna be too busy paying for all that whiskey you drank to deal with me," I tell him and he groans. "Honestly, how do you feel?"

"Like I wanna puke," he grumbles.

"Do you _want_ to throw up?" I ask candidly.

"Who the hell _wants_ to puke, Elena?"

"Hey, I'm just saying," I shrug. "Sometimes it helps. For humans."

"Gross," he mumbles but he's getting more unsteady every minute he's on his feet. Whatever he guzzled is certainly picking up speed on tanking his system. "Elena?"

"Yeah?"

"This sucks," he pouts, his eyes drooping closed.

"I know," I agree. "But I'm gonna make it worth the trouble."

"Promise?"

"Yep," I tell him and he smirks. Even hammered, its sexy as hell.

"Fuck!" he shouts, his eyes popping open and damn near scaring me to death.

"What?!"

"We…you…I… Fuck!" he curses and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Damon, will you please just tell me what the hell is going on?"

"We can't have sex."

I suck in a breath, rejection and embarrassment burning through me before I can stop it.

He must have heard my gasp because he pulls his hands back from his face and cups mine, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks and quickly saying, "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" I snap.

"Everything _works_, Elena." I shake my head at him just a little so he knows I'm lost and he gets the oddest grin on his face I've ever seen. He almost looks embarrassed. "Last I checked you weren't on the pill and I don't exactly have a stack of condoms next to my bed."

My cheeks, neck, _my whole body_ flushes red as he chuckles at me, then grunts his disappointment because he's right, no one is getting laid tonight.

We stand still for a moment, looking at each other and realizing the possibilities of what he just said and everything stops. We may not have the future ahead of us that we thought we would, but a whole other world just opened up for us. He tilts his head, a content smile lifting from his lips all the way to his eyes, his touch even more reverent than before.

He kisses me, and when his lips brush mine it's so tender that it says everything he won't ever tell me and I won't ask. I don't need to, because he's saying yes.

* * *

**_Six Years Later_**

I shouldn't be so nervous. I shouldn't be.

I wonder if he is.

Nope, no way. He's probably totally fine, cracking inappropriate jokes and sneaking shots with his brother when Jeremy isn't looking. Who am I kidding? He's probably giving them to Jeremy, too. Jerk.

I look in the mirror but I don't know why, everything is fine. Too fine. Freaking Caroline.

I told her small. _We_ told her small a thousand times, as in _five people small_. Meaning no reason for a fancy dress, caked make-up or elaborate hair or any of that crap. You'd think if there was any day I'd be getting what I want it would be today, but no. So here I stand in a lace gown, and just because it's not a princess/cupcake dress does not make it any less obvious what it is. It's strapless, exquisite and grossly expensive lace, and hugs my body like a second skin until it, in the words of Caroline "flutters" away below my knees so I can thankfully walk.

I turn and check over my shoulder to make sure my garter is not showing and breathe a sigh of relief when I don't find a single wrinkle. I can't help but smirk at my reflection. I may be irritated but I look hot as all hell and his jaw is gonna drop.

At least she didn't curl my hair. I saw the curling iron and she must have seen my eyes bug out of my skull because it was quickly stuffed back into her bag with a supportive, "Say no more." Then it was the battle of the smoky eye and what an appropriate color of lipstick was for the occasion, and I was two seconds from calling the whole thing off and texting Damon that he was right about including Caroline when she handed me a flask.

Bless that girl, and Vodka.

I kept my eyes closed and sips slow as I let her do the rest of her damage, reminding myself that all we had to do was get through the ceremony and then it was done. Caroline and Stefan and Jeremy could celebrate without us for all I care. I just want to be with Damon, which is kinda the whole point of a wedding in the first place.

I gotta give it to her though, I don't know how she spent an hour on my make-up and still made it look natural, just better than I'd ever cared to attempt. And my hair is perfect. Still straight but pulled half-up so it's off my face, the long strands he loves cascading down my back.

I twist my hands together, stopping to smile at my engagement ring and wondering how long it'll take me to get used to a second band settled against it. Part of me still can't believe that we're here. I always knew he loved me and that we were going to be together, but I just never thought he'd ask and I was perfectly okay with that. I didn't need a ring and piece of paper to know that he was mine and I was his. It just _was_. And maybe that's why he didn't need to say the words. We always speak better in silence anyways.

I love that at least that hasn't changed. That after six years, him struggling to come to terms with humanity and me spending four years in college and two out, fights and threats and one too-close call with permanently saying good-bye to our relationship, we made it. All it took was a quiet night in bed, laying spent and exhausted with my back to his chest after a little too much wine and never enough sex.

I was flirting with sleep in the arms of the man I love when he shifted, grabbing something from the nightstand. I thought he was reaching for a book or something and didn't think another thing of it, until he snuggled back to me even closer so his cheek was resting against mine. He took my left hand from where it was intertwined with his and resting against the pillow, lifting it up so it was supported it in front of us and without a word, slipped the ring on my finger.

I couldn't have asked for anything more perfect. Just us, in our own secret place and where we were safe to be ourselves without the pressure of friends and family looking on. No smirks, no sarcasm, no blushing, no overelaborate gesture other than the grand purity of the moment. There was only one question is his eyes and the tears in mine as I turned to face him, smiling my answer and losing myself in the kiss he sealed it with.

"Elena? You ready?" Caroline asks gently, pulling me from precious memories.

I nod because I think if I tried to talk right now, I might not be able to. I remember the strength of my emotions as a vampire and sometimes when I think about him, most of the time when it comes to him, it feels like they never dissipated at all. And I don't want them to.

Caroline envelopes me in a light hug, beaming me her Miss Virginia smile that she still hasn't lost.

"You look beautiful," she tells me. "Now, let's go get him," she adds with a sassy wink that never fails to make me giggle like I'm sixteen all over again.

"Okay," I say and take a deep breath, "let's go."

Caroline hands me a dainty bouquet of Calla Lilies which I specifically chose because they made Damon smile every single time when Caroline was dragging us to see eight-thousand florists, even though he was making inappropriate jokes about them the whole time but I don't care. He'll get a kick out of it.

I follow her out of the room and I'm not thinking about all the people that aren't here because I've already had that breakdown three times every day this week and heavily this morning, and in a couple more steps he'll be where I can see him. And I know they're all watching anyways.

My feet can't decide if I'm supposed to be walking slow and meek or just give up and hightail it, running the rest of the distance until I'm next to him. We're doing everything our own way, surprise to no one as Caroline keeps telling me. She says it's not traditional for the groom to walk the bride down the aisle, but she can kiss my ass because there's no one I'd rather have walk with me.

Jeremy is at the front since he, under pain of death if he screws this up, is actually doing the ceremony. Stefan offered until Damon gave him a look that told him he wouldn't hesitate to tear out his spleen if he so much as mentioned it again. I could go by myself, or with Caroline, but when Damon offered I was thrilled. I like the idea of us approaching the "alter" together, we've always been partners.

Caroline slows in front of me and stops, and I know he's right around the corner where I can't see him. Caroline is supposed to leave and go outside to wait with Stefan and Jeremy, then Damon and I will head outside together. I know all of this, Caroline made us practice, control freak she is, and it's not like it's not _Damon_, but my heart is still wanting to jump out of my chest at the knowledge that he is right there.

Caroline peeks around the corner then beams back at me, throwing me a small thumbs-up before strutting outside and shutting the door behind her, loudly.

And…my feet won't move. I know I want them to move, they know they want to move, but they're just kind of…stuck.

"Psst," I hear Damon say from the blind spot behind the wall. "Got any booze?"

"Nope," I manage to get out, trying to control the nerves in my voice but he must have heard it based on his soft laughter.

"Did you drink it _all?_" he teases and I don't fight my smile.

"Yep."

"Guess I'm doing this sober then," he says then steps around the corner.

If my feet weren't already stuck from anticipation, they'd be rooted in cement thanks to the body-numbing sight of him in black tuxedo. God, he makes that look good.

I'm so busy gawking at him that it takes me a minute to pick up on the fact that he's uncharacteristically quiet. My gaze lands on his face and I instantly blush like crazy. His eyes are soft and awed, looking me up and down like it's the first time he's ever seen me and even though I can't hear his heartbeat, the rapid rise and fall of his chest tells me everything I need to know. I've never felt more beautiful than when he's speechless.

"Hey," I say quietly, smiling at him and trying to get him to pull it together because if he doesn't, there's no hope for me. I'll just happily stand here and stare at him all day.

"Hey back," he says scratchily and clears his throat. "So, last chance, Gilbert. Sure you don't wanna make a run for it?"

"You already had that chance," I say and quirk an eyebrow at him. "I told you we should've gone to Vegas."

"Pfft. Give me Europe, any day," he says and offers me his arm.

I take it as I have countless times before and something feels a little different, but still the same. I let him lead us to the doors that will take us outside and through the glass I can see Caroline and Stefan and Jeremy waiting. Damon pauses, not reaching for the handle.

"Ready?" he asks quietly, looking straight ahead.

"Almost…"

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, sneaking a peak at his profile before I look back towards my family.

"Ready?" he asks again.

"Yes," I say and he opens the door, leading us outside. I realize as it shuts behind us that the next time that we walk through it, we'll be man and wife. Damon looks down and smirks at me and I can't wait.

"Ten to one Stefan cries," he whispers when we're halfway there and I try to stifle my laughter.

"You're on," I breathe back just in time for us to stop in front of Jeremy.

Who is, God help us all, holding a Bible.

"Dearly beloved," Jeremy starts and Damon smacks him upside the head. Then Stefan smacks Damon.

"Boys!" Caroline hisses and I don't understand why I couldn't have worn jeans for this.

"I may be human but I can still kick your ass," Damon growls at my brother.

Yeah, this is going great.

"Jeremy, please," I tell him and he looks at me guiltily.

"Sorry, Sis," he mutters to me then turns to Damon, "ready, man?"

"Yep."

"Okay," he sighs then pulls a piece of paper out of the Bible with elegant, curved handwriting looped across it.

"Wait, wait," Caroline rushes out, reaching around and grabbing my flowers so I'm free to hold both of Damon's hands in mine. "Okay, now you can start."

"She's gonna kill you, man," Jeremy mumbles.

"Just read it," he says but whatever threat he was going for is completely lost in his voice, probably because he can't stop smiling.

"I, Damon Salvatore," Jeremy starts.

"I, Damon Salvatore…"

"Do take Elena Gilbert…"

"Do take Elena Gilbert…"

"To be my partner and my wife."

"To be my partner and my wife," Damon says and squeezes my hands.

"To have and to scold," Jeremy says with a chuckle and I hear both Caroline and Stefan suck in a breath.

"To have and to scold," Damon repeats with a grin and I narrow my eyes at him but I didn't expect any less.

"For richer and richer…"

"For richer and richer…"

"In health and humanity…"

"In health and humanity…"

"And to love every day, especially on…Tuesdays?" Jeremy says confused and I flush from top to bottom.

"And to love every day, especially on Tuesdays," Damon recites with a wink that has no problem reminding me what happens every Tuesday, come rain or shine or fight or bliss. It's an agreement we have no problem following. Not that it's the _only_ day, but always, always on Tuesdays.

"Elena?"

"Mm-hmm…"

"Your turn," Jeremy tells me and I take a breath, praying I find my voice to make it through this without crying. "I, Elena Gilbert…"

"I, Elena Gilbert…"

"Do take Damon Salvatore…"

"Do take Damon Salvatore," I repeat, saying his name proudly and he cannot stop smiling from ear to ear. No matter how hard he purses his lips together, it's completely a lost cause.

"To be my partner and husband."

"To be my partner and my husband."

"To respect, honor and cherish…"

"To respect, honor and cherish," I say and my voice breaks, tears stinging the outside of my eyes.

"To trust and to protect…"

"To trust and to protect," I recite and he blinks a little too much, swallowing tightly.

"To laugh with you, and dance with you…"

"To laugh with you, and dance with you," I say and Damon's grip gets a little tighter.

"And to love you faithfully every day of my life."

"And to love you faithfully, every day of my life," I smile with tears in my eyes and I wonder if he's going to kiss me now, even though he's supposed to wait.

"Damon?" Jeremy prods gently, breaking him out of our bubble.

"Yeah," he says offhandedly and clears his throat, releasing one of my hands to turn to Stefan. "Thanks, brother," he says quietly and I see Stefan hand him my ring, lightly clapping him on the shoulder.

"Here you go, Elena," Caroline whispers and hands me his, and at least I'm not the only one crying because she's wiping at her eyes.

"Thanks, Care," I smile at her and turn back to Damon.

"Go ahead, Elena," Jeremy tells me and I can't ever remember his voice being so gentle.

I take Damon's left hand in mine, placing the gun-metal band on his finger and sliding it all the way on with my vow.

"One man."

He does the same for me, letting the band rest snugly against my engagement ring.

"One wife."

"One life," we say together.

"Elena," Jeremy says, "you may kiss your bride."

"Jeremy!" Caroline hisses.

"Sorry, sorry, I meant groom."

"Brother?" Damon says but he can't take his eyes off me.

"Yeah?" Stefan says.

"Hold him," he rumbles and then he's kissing me. Jeremy is shouting something and there's scuffling behind us, Caroline is barking reprimands but all I care about is Damon's lips on mine and his arms wrapped around me, holding me like he never wants to let go.

He pulls back with a smile, whispering, "I love you," but before I can reply he's stalking toward Jeremy whose arms are pinned behind his back by my new brother-in-law. "Come here, you little shit," Damon says but Jeremy just smiles at the taunt. "What part of 'Don't fuck this up or I'll break your face' did you not understand?"

"I don't know, all of it?" he grins then winces as Stefan tightens his grip.

"Damon, the car is going to be here any minute," I remind him but he just waves me off.

Whatever, I'm not staying to watch this. It's not like he's gonna do anything but put him in a headlock and ruffle his hair anyways.

I head back inside to the room I got ready in, gathering my clothes to change into and slipping the flask back into Caroline's purse. I'm putting away the make-up when I hear the door shut behind me.

"Caroline, can you help me unzip my dress?" I ask without looking and I should have known better. A strong arm snakes around my waist, decadent lips brushing my exposed shoulder. I fall back against his chest with a comfortable sigh, unconsciously tilting my head so he can tease his way up my neck. "Jeremy still alive?" I breathe.

"For now."

"Help a girl out?" I whisper and sweep my hair to the side, peeking at him over my shoulder.

"Nope," he smirks. "There's one more thing we have to do before we get you out of this dress."

"Damon, we are not-"

"Two things," he says and steps around so he's in front of me, holding his hand out in a familiar offer.

"Really?" I blush and he nods.

"You promised."

"I guess I did," I smile and take his hand, letting him pull me against him, his palm settling against the small of my back as he rests our hands over his heart.

There's no music, no cameras flashing, no grand ballroom floor, but I have all I'll ever need.

Quietly and slowly, together, we dance.

* * *

**_Four Years Later_**

"Where's my sexy wife?" Damon yells from the front door.

"In the kitchen with your brother." Silence, then very quiet footsteps heading in the wrong direction. "Damon, get your ass back in this house!"

The door shuts a little louder than normal before he strolls into the kitchen.

"Moron," Stefan greets him from his spot at the kitchen table.

"Douchebag," Damon replies just as quickly, not even sparing him a glance before he cups my face in his hands, kissing me slow and sweet like he does every day when he comes home from work.

Damon didn't exactly want to get a job, but after working from home while trying to write my novel I told him if he didn't find a way to spend his days outside the house he was gonna wake up murdered. Thus, the rare book store he begrudgingly opened. He acts like he hates it most days, bitching about people who don't know one author from another and what constitutes a rarity versus just being old trash, but I know the truth.

He_ loves _it.

And I swear, you'd think he still had the ability to compel people for what he gets them to buy at what _he_ deems to be a fair price. Knowing Damon, it's more likely that all he has to do is smile and wink and people will hand over their credit cards without a second thought because even though age is starting to catch up with him after ten years, he _still_ looks like a damn model.

And I probably wouldn't feel so bitter about it if women weren't constantly trying to turn his head all day long while I'm at home, feeling like some sort of bloated whale. Never have I been more uncomfortable than clocking in at more than eight months pregnant and days away from my due date. And it's all his damn fault. Not that I'm complaining, of course.

But still, if he had to share his body like some sort _host_ than he would be out of his damn mind. Man throws a complete hissy fit every time he gets the slightest little sniffle. I'd like to see him dealing with heartburn into your eyeballs and an aversion to every food product that's not a steak or lima beans while someone bounces on your bladder and kicks you in the ribs from the inside out. But it all makes it worth it when I picture Damon's face the night I told him I was pregnant.

He had come home late to the house we bought together a year after we were wed, raging because some new hire had spilled their six dollar coffee all over one of his newly procured books and all the kid had cared about was whether Damon was going to replace his drink. It was ten minutes of "If I still had fangs" and "What I wouldn't give to rip that kid's heart out" while he sat at the table, chugging glass after glass of bourbon, even though he knows better now. So I stood at the counter seasoning a steak and listening patiently, trying to decide whether to wait to tell him until he was in a better mood.

"Distract me," he said, so I left my spices to do their work and settled myself on his lap like he loves me to do. "You feeling any better?"

I had thrown up that morning, again, and at that point I pretty much knew but I waited until he left to go get the test. I didn't want to disappoint him if it was negative, we'd already had enough of that.

"Yep, much better."

"Still gonna go to the doctor next week, just to be sure?"

"Um, yeah," I blushed and figured I was busted but all he saw was the same flush that's driven him crazy since day one. His lips kissed my cheek, slowly making their way down to my jaw as his hand came up to tease my breast. He flicked his thumb over my nipple and I hissed in pain, causing us both to jump.

"What's wrong?"

"Just…sensitive," I told him but I was never going to get away with that. So I kept his gaze locked with mine, taking his hand from my chest and placing it over my stomach.

His eyes narrowed, then got wider and wider with his smile as he understood what I was telling him.

"You sure?" he asked so quiet I barely heard him, and when I nodded I thought my heart would explode from the unfiltered joy etched on his face. "I love you," he told me fiercely and then his mouth was against mine, kissing me deep and heated and sending passion burning through me, until I felt something else churning.

Nausea.

I bounded off his lap and into the bathroom, heaving over the toilet from the taste of the bourbon on his lips and tongue. And that was last of his drinking days.

"So, what's for dinner?" Damon asks, pulling me from my reverie while I watch him pluck a grape from the basket on the counter and toss it into his mouth like its popcorn.

"Three guesses," Stefan chuckles and I glare at him. He eats dinner with us practically every night, and Damon whines about it constantly but I know he wouldn't have it any other way. "Hit me," he says to his brother and Damon raises a fist, then throws a grape at him, Stefan catching it perfectly between his teeth from across the kitchen.

"Dog food for you two if you don't start behaving."

"Ooh, she's grumpy tonight," Damon mocks then sits next to me, pulling my swollen feet up into his lap.

"_She_ is tired, and ready to be done being fat," I scowl. Damon insists I've never been sexier than round with his progeny, and I can hardly keep his hands off me, but it doesn't change the fact that every day is a struggle to get dressed in something other than gigantic sweatpants.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so tired if you didn't insist on doing all the cooking and standing on your feet all day. You should take it easy, Elena, let someone help you for once," Stefan says and Damon immediately starts dragging his finger across his throat in a silent warning, but it's too late. I'm pissed.

"I am not an invalid!"

"Now you've done it," Damon groans but I don't care.

"You're almost nine months pregnant, Elena," Stefan protests.

"Like I don't know that!"

"Elena-" Damon starts but I'm not listening. I'm a tornado of hormones and I don't give a rat's ass who I insult because they don't listen to me anyways.

"No! All anybody sees when they look at me is my stomach. I am _perfectly capable_ of cooking a damn dinner!" I shout and push away from the table.

"Babe…"

Damon reaches for my hand as I stomp past him, but I brush him off, mumbling, "Traitor," under my breath.

Just before I slam the door to our bedroom, I hear Damon grumble, "Thanks a lot, Stefan."

Whatever, blaming his brother is not gonna save him now.

I'm curled up on the bed, crying, in the _only_ position that's comfortable which means every pillow we own stuffed is between my knees to try to take the stress off my back when Damon comes in the room not two minutes later.

"Get out," I say and sniffle.

And does he listen? No. Does he ever? No.

Instead, he lies down behind me, stroking his fingertips down my arm and placing light kisses on my shoulder.

"I want him out of my house," I mumble. "You too. You can both go eat whatever the hell you want and drink all the alcohol you want and leave me the hell alone."

"Why would I leave when there is a perfectly edible steak in the kitchen?" he whispers.

"I'm serious, Damon. I'm sick of being treated like a child."

"Says the woman pouting in her bedroom," he chuckles and I shoot him a glare over my shoulder that has him backtracking immediately.

"Okay, okay, I give. No coddling, of any kind. Promise."

"Stefan too?"

"If he wants to live to see tomorrow," he smiles and I'm screwed because I can't resist him when he's sweet to me. "Hungry?" he asks and I frown.

"No."

"Liar," he laughs and helps me off the bed, planet that I am.

I just reach my feet when something shifts inside me, a shooting pain that has me lurching forward and grabbing at my stomach as I let out a string of curse words. Damon's all over me, worry dripping from his face as he helps support me.

"Elena? What's wrong?" he asks panicked.

"You need to turn off the oven," I groan under the pain and then it just disappears, allowing me to straighten and take a steadying breath.

"What are you talking about?"

"We're going to the hospital," I tell him with a smile. "It's time."

All the color bleeds out of his face for a second and then his head whips towards the door.

"Stefan!"

* * *

**_Fourteen Years Later_**

"You suck!"

"I don't care, you're still grounded!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

_Slam. _

And they're at it again.

"I can't deal with her anymore," Damon snaps as he comes downstairs. "She's your daughter, you deal with her."

He collapses on the couch, laying back to rest his head in my lap, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes.

"Headache?"

"Splitting," he mumbles. "I swear, I'm gonna kill Caroline for teaching her that pitch where her voice shrieks and it makes my brain explode."

"I don't think Caroline taught her that, I think it just comes with the territory," I chuckle. He takes my hand and drapes it over his chest, holding it to him like it's some kind of talisman to help him calm down, which is more than fine with me.

"As if it wasn't bad enough that she's even more stubborn than you. I mean Jesus Christ, you'd think I was condemning her to a life of indentured servitude instead of trying to instill the idea that if she thinks she can lie to me she's gonna get busted, and then she's gonna be up shit creek and I'm not giving her a God-damn paddle to go rowing off with her fucking boyfriend."

"Well, all right then," I murmur and he grunts.

If I thought Damon was protective over me, I was wrong. His watch over our daughter never ceases and he's right, she is more stubborn than I am. The result of which, to the surprise of no one considering my and Damon's history, is an explosive, loud, and recently strenuous relationship now that she wants to start "dating," much to the dismay of her father.

I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, but she is through and through a Daddy's girl and she's had him wrapped around her finger since the moment she was born. So what usually starts out as an absolute "no" quickly gets wheedled down to a "maybe, with conditions" and she's got it down to a science on how to make it a small shove to "yes."

It's not that I condone manipulation, and I'll back him up when I need to intervene, but it is somewhat entertaining to watch her work him down, and I can't help but melt at how completely at her mercy he is. Love that strong is just plain beautiful, and above all, they unequivocally adore one another.

And case in point is now coming down the stairs, eyes swollen and puffy from crying over their fight. I wave her over to sit on the coffee table in front of us so they can talk it out and make up, because I can't quite figure out who their fighting hurts more, but it's a good chance it's pretty much equal.

"Be nice," I whisper to him because he can't see her with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Dad?"

"Yep?"

"I'm sorry," she tells him quietly, sniffling a bit and wiping at her silver-blue eyes she got straight from Damon.

I can actually feel him wince when she sniffles and all the anger he was holding a minute ago just got shot to hell with the little sound.

Daughter: 1 / Dad: 0

He sits up to face her, but still holding my hand for a show of solidarity. Or maybe just because it makes him feel better.

"I appreciate the apology. You're still grounded."

I squeeze his hand but his jaw is set. And she sees it just as clear as I do.

"But-"

"Why are you grounded again?" he cuts her off, tilting his head in a challenge.

"Because I lied," she admits, hanging her head.

Daughter: 1 / Dad: 1

"Yes, you did."

"Dad, I'm really sorry. I won't lie again," she pouts at him.

"I'm sure you won't. And why is that?"

"Because it's wrong," she supplies.

"And?"

"And because you'll know if I do."

"Exactly," he smirks.

"So…" Uh-oh, here we go. "Knowing what I know, and having learned my lesson…"

She's got full-on doe eyes and a lock of brown hair twisted around her finger. She's breaking out the big guns and Damon squeezes my hand a little tighter.

"I don't really feel that it's fair to my _best friend in the whole world_ that I should have to miss her birthday party because I made a really big mistake that I won't repeat."

And his free hand is covering his mouth…

"Ever," she adds, batting her eyelashes.

Damon grunts and looks at his feet. She's almost got him.

"Promise," she whispers and reaches out to lay a hand on his arm.

Daughter: 2 / Dad: 1

And we have a winner!

He glances at me and I shrug because it's done. And it is her best friend's birthday. I'd much rather have us say yes now, then say no and catch her sneaking out an hour later 'cause that's totally what I would've done if my parents had tried to keep me from Bonnie or Caroline's birthday party.

"Fine," he groans and she pops up from the table like it just caught on fire, rushing forward to hug him and kiss his cheek.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," she says, bouncing on her toes.

"If I find out that little pip squeak-"

"Dad!"

"Damon…"

"I'm serious," he glares, pointing a warning finger at her. "Nowhere near the house. You got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now…go get your stuff," he grumbles and waves her off, watching as she flies back up the stairs to her room.

"Way to hang tough," I tease when he lays back down, rolling on to his side so he can wrap his arms around my waist.

"Shut up," he says, but it's muffled in my shirt.

"How's the headache?"

"Better, and worse."

"You can't keep her from seeing boys, Damon," I say quietly, running my hands through his hair and loving every single random strand of gray I find.

"Watch me."

"Sooner or later she is gonna meet some tall, dark and mysterious stranger that will have all the answers, and he is gonna turn her whole world upside down," I chuckle.

"Not funny. Not even a little bit."

"Reap what you sow, babe."

"You remember that when I get back from dropping her off," he says and bites my hip, somehow getting me to giggle like I'm still eighteen again.

"Dad, I'm- Gross!" she shrieks and Damon rolls off me with a huff. "Can you guys _please _wait to do this stuff until I'm out of the house?"

"Nope," he smirks at her, then turns to wink at me.

"Geez, I'm technically still a kid, you know," she grumbles, stomping down the stairs. "Aren't there laws against this kind of abuse?"

"Not in this state," he tells her and slings her pink bag over his shoulder.

"How much would you miss me if I moved to Canada?" she asks me, giving me a quick hug and kiss before she faces her father, crossing her arms and giving him the patented Salvatore smirk. She's too much like him for his own good.

"Not enough to fund your shoe collection from Virginia," he grins at her and her mouth gapes open.

"That's just wrong!"

"Yeah? Well, when you're eighteen you can write a letter to your local congressman, see if you can get him to change the laws. In the meantime, I thought you had a party to go to?"

Her jaw snaps shut with a click.

"That's what I thought," he tells her, then looks to where I'm laughing on the couch. "Back in a bit."

"Love you," I smile at him and pick up my abandoned book.

"So, what are the laws in New York?" she asks as he opens the front door for her.

"That you have to obey your parents at all times, under penalty of having to snake the hair out of the drain in the bath tub."

"Ew!" she squeals as the door closes behind them.

I look at the door where my husband and daughter disappeared behind, letting my gaze wander around the house. There are memories at every corner, boxes in the basement and years' worth of junk in the garage. My wedding dress and her baby clothes and Damon's books and all the knick-knacks Stefan has given us and so many pictures.

I could totally stand for eight lifetimes with my family, but if one is all I get, I'm glad it's this one.

As Damon loves to tell me, "We're Salvatores, baby, and no matter what we do, we rock the shit out of it."

I couldn't agree more.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for reading, hope you enjoyed and HAPPY BIRTHDAY DELENADREAMER!**


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